Page 24 of Embriagado

“Ever been on one before?” he asked once I sat down.

“Does a scooter count?”

He grabbed my hands and wrapped them around his waist.

“You tell me.”

Next thing I knew, he kicked into gear, and the bike sped forward, accelerating from zero to a hundred in seconds. I held on to him tighter, shocked at the speed at which he rode.

“Holy shit, man,” I gasped, about to shit my pants from how fast we were racing.

Saying nothing, Ariyan got us out of the parking lot and into the street, where he continued maneuvering between cars like it was a video game, his hand milking the throttle to the end. The bike’s engine roared in my ears, together with the whoosh of the wind that messed up my hair. He was riding at the speed of light, so fast I’d never felt anything like it.

We were reaching a crossroad when the light was about to turn red. I thought he’d slow down, but the opposite happened. My eyes widened with shock as we approached the crossroad at full speed, fear clenching my throat at the moving cars.

“Watch out—” I gasped, gripping him harder.

Positive we’d crash, I squeezed my eyes shut, prepared for impact, when all that came was a string of honks. Shocked, I opened my eyes and glanced back at the receding crossroad, wondering how the fuck we were still alive.

My heart was racing, breath hitching as adrenaline surged through my blood like a drug. It suddenly brought me back to the ring and how I felt before a fight. It was pure rush, pumping my body with excitement, fear, and thirst. Thirst for blood, or in this case, whatever this feeling was.

Trying to push those thoughts out of my head, I looked down to see the barely there space between Ariyan and me. Taking advantage of the situation, I bit my lip and slid closer until I was pressed to his back, my hands clenching his narrow hips while my mind filled with thoughts of fucking him. The idea of having his hole dripping with my cum made me a bit excited, enough for my pants to feel slightly tighter.

“Enjoying yourself, are you, Mr. Rivas?”

I scootched closer, not shying away from the semi I was packing. “What makes you say that?”

Shaking his head, Ariyan’s shoulders moved with a slight laugh, and he continued riding like a motherfucking maniac. Although I’d give it to him—he was good. Very good. And all I could think about was if he rode this monster so well, how amazing would he ride my cock?

* * *

“Is this the right place?” he asked as he parked the bike across the street from the bar.

“Yeah.”

Once he killed the engine, I got off.

“Thanks,” I said, running a hand through my messed-up hair.

Ariyan took off his helmet and placed it on the gas tank. “It’s the least I could do after the way you helped me out today.”

“I mean, you’re the boss.”

His lips formed that mysterious little smile again. “If you don’t mind me asking… who are you meeting in this⁠—”

“Shithole?” I offered.

“I would have picked a different choice of words, but yes.”

This area was where people like me came to get fucked-up, with cheap bars and bad crowds. It sure didn’t look as glamorous as the Kallos, with its beachfront views, palm trees, and infinity pool. Here, all you had were plastic chairs, run-of-the-mill clubs, and a hell of a lot of trouble. Truthfully, I was annoyed I’d dragged Ariyan to such a dark place to begin with. Looking at him, sitting on this gorgeous bike while wearing a neat white suit, he sure didn’t fit the slums.

I poked the inside of my cheek and looked around, my eyes pinning on a bar across the street with an open terrace. I spotted Nacio in seconds, sitting at a table between Ace and Ricky, among the other trash I used to hang with.

Fuck.

“I came to pick up my brother,” I said, eyes still on him. He was just offered a shot of tequila, and the idiot took it. Just seeing Ace’s arm draped over Nacio’s shoulder, the ugly grin on his pale face, pissed me the fuck off, making my muscles turn rigid.

I always hated that hijo de puta.